Adventures of the Heart
by AraLupus
Summary: "Dovahkiin..." The words escaped me in a whisper unknowingly. People recall many things from that day; the roar of the dragon, the fight between two legends, the fire that lit the beast from the inside, but as she looked up at me, our gazes meeting, I knew I'd always remember the way her glowing red eyes burned into my own.


People were always saying that they had seen her, this supposed hero, around Whiterun. ' _Important business with the Jarl_ ' they said. ' _It's about the return of dragons!_ ' they also said, but I'd not seen her once and neither had half the town. Despite her supposed presence, no-one could describe her; tall, slight, fair, dark skinned, mature, young. It seemed the only thing people could agree on was her choice to wear armour of black and red leather that some whispered resembled the Dark Brotherhood's choice in attire, and always with hood pulled over her features. This stranger seemed to be an enigma in their midst, stirring up the gossips with words of adventure, of intrigue, of long dead monsters, but not everyone believed the rumours that were shared across the fire in the Bannered Mare, at least not until the proof of those stories came roaring through the sky above our heads.

The first time I saw her with my own eyes was beneath the Gildergreen tree. I had pulled my gaze away from the dragon that headed towards Dragonsreach, intending on seeking shelter in the closest building I could find, when she flew past me. Her footfalls were silent despite her haste, the leather of her amour giving off no noise as she moved, and I was captivated by her grace instantly. Her gait was measured and controlled, movements smooth as the strung bow slung across her back was looped over a shoulder between strides. There was something hypnotic in watching the muscles move as she did, so tight was the armour she wore that it wasn't hard imagining how strong this person was.

I should have retreated, the part of my mind that was focused on self-preservation was screaming at me, but something held me in place, watching this complete stranger as she notched an arrow and let it fly towards it target without hesitation, another in place before the first had struck it's target. The dragon screeched, fire released from it's maw and scorching the ground the woman had been standing, would have still be standing if she hadn't leapt to the side into a neat roll just moments before. The Whiterun guards had approached by now, military training kicking in, their own arrows flying into the sky though rarely making contact. My eyes followed the leather clad woman, however, gripped in study as she slowly emptied her quiver into the winged beast.

I watched as the dragon landed on the steps of Jorrvaskr, an earth-shaking roar released in challenge as this woman dropped her bow and charged with a battle cry, the mace that had sat strapped at her waist suddenly help aloft in her hand. What happened next I did not see, my hands having flown up to my face of their own accord to cover my eyes. The sound of metal on flesh, the cries of the dragon, the screech of claws on stone surrounded me until there was the sound of a great weight hitting the floor and coming to a halt. Silence filled the air, so foreign after the cries of battle, the sounds of soldiers marching together in haste, the twang of bows and the calls of the dragon. It weighed heavily on me, squeezing my chest as my heart tried to escape me, made my prayers to whichever deity was listening that this woman whom I had never met was safe from harm silent.

Moments slipped by and I stood frozen in place, breathing shallow, waiting for some sign that things were over, that they were safe, that _she_ was safe. The sound of her metal mace hitting the stone steps beneath us jerked me from my stupor, my eyes flying unbidden to where the dragon had sat, both wanting to see and wanting to live in ignorance if the worst had come to pass. The creature lay slain, body sprawled on the floor, it's neck extended and head on it's side with one of it's unseeing eyes turned to the sky it had inhabited. There, standing before it, was the woman victorious. My gaze moved up her body, noticing the lack of injury with relief. Despite never having met this woman before, it gladdened me to see her upright and safe, _alive_.

The breath caught in my throat as my eyes reached her head. The hood had fallen back at some point in her skirmish revealing her skin a greyish-blue colour, blonde hair grown to the nape of her neck, though as she turned to approach her kill I could see that it had been shaved down the left half of her head. Whilst I could not see her eyes, it became quickly clear to me that she was a Dunmer, a Dark Elf as my kin called them, though it did not bother me the way it might others; a Nord I may be but we did not all agree with the opinions of the Stormcloaks. I did not know what I was expecting when she approached the now dead dragon, but it was not her kneeling down beside it on the stone floor, hand stretching out to lay on it's nose. She sat there a second or two before her head lowered, chin to her chest, almost in reverence to the creature she had just slain. It was a peaceful moment, stretched out for a few seconds where nothing moved and the only sound was the wind in the leaves above me, before those around me began to exclaim in alarm.

Before our eyes the dragon's began combusting, flaming as if consumed by the fire it harbored in it's chest. Some of the guards yelled for her to move, but this stranger to us all merely sat calmly even as the flesh beneath her glove burned away. The site of the beast burning was shocking, but the moments afterwards I spent in awe as light rushed from the dragon. Reds and yellows and oranges danced around each other in their rush to leave one body and reach another. All these lights filling the air with their music, arching outwards before flowing into _her_ so naturally, so effortlessly, and still she sat like a statue sculpted in prayer. I remembered the song from my days as a child, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd see the legend brought to like.

"Dovahkiin..." The words escaped me in a whisper unknowingly. People recall many things from that day; the roar of the dragon, the fight between two legends, the fire that lit the beast from the inside, but as she looked up at me, our gazes meeting, I knew I'd always remember the way her glowing red eyes burned into my own.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter! My Dragonborn married Ysolda and I've never found much about them together so thought I'd share this with you all (even though I have far too many WIPs for my own good . I have a problem). Rating subject to change depending how this fic goes, but I'll be sure to pre-warn y'all! I've no Beta so any mistakes are my own, though I'd love a Beta if anyone is interested :P Reviews feed my soul 3**


End file.
